


A Fine Welcome

by MagpieChristine



Series: None More Scots [1]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Cape Breton AU, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Some characters are named differently than in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieChristine/pseuds/MagpieChristine
Summary: Jamie's mom has invited the new surgeon for Thanksgiving dinner. A modern AU set in Cape Breton. Originally posted to Tumblr, this has been cleaned up & re-edited. Any differences between this version and Tumblr are intentional, this is the official one.





	1. You'll Have to Excuse Me I've Been Gone for a Month

Towards the end of September, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was lying in bed, in his apartment, browsing Macleans online, when his sister phoned him. Startled, he almost dropped his smartphone before answering.

“Hey Jenny, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, Jamie. I’m just calling to invite you to the farm for Thanksgiving dinner on the Sunday.”

Taken aback both by his sister’s tone and the invitation, he forgot about his resolution to keep his language at all times classroom appropriate.

“What the hell, Jenny? Since when do I need an invitation to eat Thanksgiving dinner at home?”

“How about since you moved out, and we’d like you to eat Thanksgiving dinner at Lallybroch with us instead?”

Jamie forced himself to take a deep breath and count to te-

“If you’re still willing to spend time with us, of course.”

-four. Four was a good number to count to.

“Janet. I know we discussed this during the summer. I’ve hardly moved out, I just have an apartment for during the week. Saves me from having to get up at 5:30 every morning.”

“Generally speaking, people who haven’t moved out, and are still planning on helping out around the farm, have spent more than one night since Labour Day at home.”

Breathing heavily (snorting, really) through his nose, Jamie ground out through his teeth “Perhaps this is a conversation we should be having in person, not over the phone. Since I apparently am expected to stay in the city next weekend, perhaps we can do it at Thanksgiving?”

“Can’t. You’re bringing a guest.”

“What do you mean I’m bringing a guest? Who might this guest be? Are they hiding under my bed? Nope, no one there.”

Jenny sighed heavily, the sound carrying through the phone’s speaker and filling the bedroom.

“Don’t be an arse. You know that mom’s doctor finally arrived? Mom invited her to come for Thanksgiving, since she obviously doesn’t have any family or even any friends here yet.” The new doctor wasn’t Ellen Mackenzie’s in the sense of Ellen being her patient. But when Jamie and Jenny’s mom had decided to start leaving more and more of the day-to-day running of the farm to Jenny and her husband Ian Murray, she hadn’t so much done less work as redirected the work she was doing. She had organised a physician recruitment committee, and directed it in the unusual direction of not trying to bring in a family doctor, but to hire a surgeon for the hospital. The committee’s work had succeeded, Ellen had managed to get all the visas in order, and the new surgeon had just arrived from England.

“I’ll send you the details about picking her up. And can I put you in charge of potatoes and cranberry sauce? We’ll do your usual pies for you, because they won’t travel well by car. The doctor is the only guest this year, so it’s us, mom, Murtagh and you in addition to her.” Barely giving Jamie time to confirm that he would bring the requested dishes, she hung up.

* * *

 

When the alarm went off, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was lying on her new bed, not so much sleeping or even dozing as simply staring blankly at the opposite wall, exhausted and somewhat overwhelmed. Before this move she would have said that she was used to moving around a lot, and didn’t have any trouble adjusting to a new place. But this was her first time in a foreign country on her own, and to her surprise that made a big difference. Thankfully she didn’t have much to move; the household supplies that had been provided for her may very well have outnumbered her possessions. (Why on earth would anyone need that many pots? And three different vases? She was wondering if more than one recruitment committee member had taken it upon themselves to provide a full set of everything that they thought she might have left behind in Oxfordshire.)

She was feeling less and less certain about having accepted the invitation to dinner today. (“Well, we call it dinner, but it’s more of a combined lunch and dinner. We eat in the early afternoon. Come hungry.”) But at least it meant she wouldn’t have to cook. The takeaway options here were limited, and she didn’t feel like having to track down some groceries and cook for herself just yet. Putting on some nicer clothes and meeting some people was probably less work than that.

She stepped out the front door of the building just as a tall young man was approaching from visitor parking. He was a few years younger than her, approaching 2 metres, and had a head of red curls, just like Ms. Mackenzie had described her son.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” Unconsciously, Jamie shifted his accent towards a more international French, away from his usual, Canadian, pronunciation, in an attempt to impress the vision of loveliness in front of him.

“Je utilise la pronunciation anglais, c’est <<beech-am>>. Vous êtes M Fraser?” Claire blinked and realised what she had just said. She blamed jet lag, and the shock of being addressed as “doctor”. “I’m so sorry, I’m a little tired and I guess I thought we were speaking French for a moment there. I was just saying that my name has a very English pronunciation – it’s ‘beech-am’.” Her accent sounded very cozy to Jamie. To his inexperienced ear it was neither working-class nor particularly posh, but beyond that he couldn’t tell. Not that he cared. All he knew was that it sounded perfect.

“Pas de problem. Je parle français aussi,” Jamie continued, switching to English, with a shy grin. “I teach the French stream for Primary – that’s the 5- and 6-year-olds – actually. It’s a change to be M Fraser to an adult instead of someone at waist height.” He waved at the car. “I’ve been told that you’re who Mom is dragging out to the farm for Thanksgiving this year. She delegated the dragging part to me though. Shall we?”

Claire walked to the door of the car, and only after opening it noticed the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I think I might be a bit jetlagged still.”

From where he was holding the passenger door open for her, Jamie grinned at her. “No worries. If you want to nap on the way I won’t tell on you.” As she came around the car, Claire looked at him with confusion.

“Wait, nap? I thought your mother lived close.”

“She’s not very far. It’s maybe a 45 minute drive.”

Claire’s eyes bugged out. “Bloody hell, that’s considered ‘not far’? I always thought that people were joking when they talked about distances here.” Jamie politely ignored her confusion, and walked around to the driver’s side to get into the car himself.

Despite the fact that she had never met him before, Claire found herself feeling surprisingly comfortable with Mr. Fraser, as if an instant friendship had sprung up in just the few sentences they exchanged. So comfortable, in fact, that in the companionable silence in the car she did end up dozing off. Reaching one-handed into the backseat, Jamie dug out an old plaid blanket he kept in the car for emergencies. Keeping one hand on the wheel and most of an eye on the road, he tucked it around her as they drove on.

During the drive to his family’s farm, Jamie kept stealing glances at the fascinating woman sitting in the seat next to him. Despite the popularity of holding Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday, traffic was light, allowing him this extended distraction. Apparently most people had either already done any travelling needed, or else were actually having Thanksgiving dinner on the day of. It occurred to Jamie that he probably should have asked around to see if any of his coworkers were on their own for the holiday, and maybe hosted a dinner on Monday. He mused on this for a while, enjoying the scenery outside the car almost as much as he enjoyed the scenery inside it. Eventually, he noticed that they were getting close to the end of the trip.

“Dr. Beauchamp? We’re almost there; you probably want to wake up now.” When she didn’t respond, he reached out and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. She started awake, and blinked at him.

“Lallybroch is just a few more minutes, I figured you probably wanted a bit of warning.” She screwed up her face, giving him a grimace that was probably intended to be a smile. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither one wanting to shatter the fragile sense of intimacy that had grown out of her napping in his presence. But Claire’s curiosity got the better of her after a little bit.

“Lallybroch? That’s an interesting name.”

“It’s Scots Gaelic. Means ‘lazy tower’. My parents had to take the tower down for safety reasons when they bought the property, but they kept the name. Changing the name as well as taking down the tower would have been too much change for the community to tolerate.”

Claire laughed at the mock-solemn look on Jamie’s face. “So you speak Gaelic as well as French then?”

“Not really. My mom has a fair bit more of it than I do. Some of her relatives, especially as they got older, weren’t very good in English, so she practiced it a lot. But knowing the name of the house you grew up in doesn’t take much.” As he explained this, Jamie smoothly turned off the road into the private drive, long practice helping him know where the rough parts where and how to avoid them.

When Jamie parked the car by the house and they got out, Claire insisted on helping him carry the food inside. “After all, you did the driving. I promise that I won’t try to take credit for the cooking myself.” As they walked up to the door, Ellen opened it for them, saving Jamie from the dilemma of whether his sister would be more annoyed if he rang the bell (confirming that this was no longer home) or just walked right in (ignoring her accusation that he had moved out). It also saved him from having to decide whether he wanted to do the one that would annoy her more or the one that would annoy her less.

“Come in, come in!” Jamie’s mother called out, taking bowls from them. Arms freed, Jamie and Claire took off their coats and shoes. Claire followed Jamie into what appeared to be the living room, where Ellen bustled out of a door that lead to what looked like a kitchen.

“So nice to finally meet you in person, Dr. Beauchamp! I’m Ellen, as I’m sure you guessed.” She stuck out her hand to Claire. Her callused griped was firm, but she didn’t try playing any dominance games as she shook Claire’s hand.

““I really appreciate all the work you’ve put in to making my move here smooth. And it was so generous of you to invite me to your dinner. Oh, and please, call me Claire. And you too.” The last was directed to the room at large, starting with Jamie.

“Well then, I’m Jamie, Claire.” Jenny shot her brother a dark look at this, wordlessly saying _You spent how long with this woman in a social setting and only now share your first name?_ She stepped forward, offering a handshake of her own.

“I’m Jenny, and this is my husband Ian, with our daughter Katherine” the tiny woman said, pointedly offering only first names as she gestured to the dark-haired man sitting in a plush chair, holding a baby who was industriously pulling at the bows in her dress in an attempt to remove them so she could eat them. Claire nodded to Ian, and cooed over Katherine. The last person in the living room, a wiry, somewhat disheveled man silently nodded at her.

“This is Murtagh Fraser. His great-grandmother was my late husband’s grandfather’s oldest sister, and he’s Jamie’s godfather. But close friend of the family might be a better description.” Claire shook Murtagh’s hand as she parsed the relationship.

“So you’re second cousins once removed by marriage,” she said, pointing at Ellen and Murtagh. “And they’re his third cousins,” pointing at Jenny and Jamie. Murtagh flashed her a quick grin, transforming his face for a brief instant. Claire had the feeling she had just passed some kind of obscure test.

Ellen invited Claire to take a seat, and almost immediately bustled back to the kitchen in response to a timer. She was followed by Jamie who wanted to check on the food he’d brought and its reheating, then Murtagh, who came back only to send Jenny in to confer with Ellen on the subject of turkey carving. Shortly afterwards Ellen herself returned, announcing that dinner was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically Murtagh is still Brian's second cousin's nephew. I couldn't figure out a way to make it work in a modern context while keeping the relationship the same, sorry to all the purists.
> 
> And because it's rather creepy otherwise, I want everyone to know that this version of Murtagh isn't pining over Ellen. (There was never a love triangle)


	2. I'm Not at My Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire ends up witnessing family drama as they sit for dinner.

Once everyone was settled around the dinner table (except Katherine, who was playing with brightly coloured plastic rings in a playpen), Ellen said a prayer over the meal, and the feast began. In addition to Jamie’s cranberry sauce, the turkey was accompanied by gravy and a large dish of dressing (“And there’s more in the kitchen, so take as much as you want.”) There were rolls with butter, a green salad, Brussel sprouts and, to pair with the mashed potatoes, a dish of mashed rutabaga. This last caused some confusion, as none of the Cape Bretoners knew the name “swede” until Google was consulted for a picture. Claire found herself in a swirl of dishes being passed, leaving plates piled high with food in their wake. “If you need anything else, or want more of something, please, just ask.” Wine was poured, and water jugs placed out on the table, and everyone started to eat.

When Jenny had a half plate of food remaining, Katherine suddenly switched from happily entertaining herself to wailing. Jenny sighed, looking at her dinner and started to get up. Ian stopped her. “I’ll change her diaper first, you can have a bite more right now before you have to come in and nurse her.” He walked off into the house, carrying the crying baby.

Jenny took Ian’s advice and tucked into the food on her plate while it was still warm and she had company in her eating. Seeing the concern on Claire’s face, Ellen explained “Katherine isn’t fond of wet diapers. And she’s been up for a while, so she’s tired. Nothing’s actually wrong, she’s just not able to handle the discomfort. A dry diaper, a full belly and she’ll nap.” Claire smiled her thanks for the reassurance, not very used to interacting with small children, especially not healthy ones.

Once Jenny left to nurse Katherine, Ellen looked at Jamie and quietly said “Jamie, I’ve been wondering. You seem to be doing quite well in the city. How would you feel if moved into the granny flat, instead of you just storing your stuff there? You could have my old room as yours, so you wouldn’t need to be staying in a guest room every time you were home. And between Katherine, and the fact that you have your own place now, Jenny and Ian shouldn’t be having to live in my house. And it’s going to be my house unless I move out.” Not really having a choice, despite how his mother phrased things, and appreciating that she had waited until Jenny was out of the room to raise the issue, Jamie agreed.

“I should move a bunch of the stuff to the apartment then. I don’t think that Jenny and Ian would appreciate it if it ended up in their space. After dessert I’ll go see if there’s anything I want to take back with me today. But I can’t do anything about the majority of the books right now. Maybe I should come back tomorrow? Or I can come home after school. After all, I made the trip daily for a couple of years, I’m sure I can manage it for a few nights.” His mother raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not overly picky about it being done that quickly. Just so long as I don’t have to move all those books myself.” Jamie glared at his mother, but given the size of his personal library (at least the hard copy portion of it) he had no reasonable reply. Ian smirked a bit at this; having been recruited to help Jamie install the bookshelves, he was quite happy to have someone on his side about the excessiveness of the collection.

Murtagh grunted. “I’ll swing by the NSLC for you and grab some boxes. You might not be able to fit enough in your car if you do it yourself.” Ellen and Ian burst out laughing, and even Claire, who had been feeling slightly awkward while this not-quite-a-fight was going on snickered. Ian shot her a reassuring glance, understanding how it felt to be in the middle of Fraser family drama, as Jenny returned with a triumphant look on her face.

“Out like a light! Hopefully she’ll stay down, I never quite trust it when she falls asleep so quickly.” Fortunately Jenny’s worries proved to be unfounded, and the adults were able to enjoy the rest of the meal leisurely.

At the end of the meal, as the plates were being passed to Ellen to return to the kitchen, Claire offered another round of praise for the food.

“That was amazing. You’re all such good cooks. I’ve never had a meal like this one, and this was an amazing introduction.”

Jenny looked at Claire curiously. “I know that turkey is a New World food, and the cranberries, but the meal as a whole can’t have been that different from what English food is like.”

“I can’t really say, actually,” Claire replied. “We never really ate it. I was raised by my uncle, he was an archeologist. When we were out at one of his digs, he would hire a local cook. At home he tended towards curries. You have to remember that his generation grew up hating home cooking. He was 2 when food rationing started during the war, and 16 when it was fully lifted. So, once he got to choose, he stuck with a diet that didn’t resemble what he ate as a child.”

Ellen had grabbed the stack of plates to take to the kitchen. Claire grabbed a couple of serving dishes at random and followed her, to a disapproving shake of Murtagh’s head. In the kitchen, Ellen turned around and realised it was Claire who had helped out.

“Oh, Claire. You’re a guest, you didn’t need to do that. Here, I’ll take those. Why don’t you go and relax? I’ll have dessert out in a jiffy.” Claire rejoined the table in time for Jamie and Jenny to hop up with dishes to clear, leaving her at the mercy of the quiet members of the family. To her pleased surprise, Ian turned out to be perfectly capable of holding up his end of the conversation, as long as his wife and in-laws weren’t filling up all the spaces. Claire found herself immersed in his stories about shenanigans at Fort Mac. Before she knew dessert, in the form of pumpkin and apple pies, along with a bowl of freshly-whipped cream had appeared on the table.

“Would you like pumpkin or apple, Claire?” Ellen hovered her knife between two pies.

Seeing her indecision, Jamie leaned over to her and stage-whispered. “Both is generally an accepted answer.”

Claire blushed, but took Jamie’s advice. She felt less awkward when everyone except Murtagh (who asked for a larger piece of pumpkin instead) followed her lead. Unsure as to which pie she wanted to eat first and which one she wanted to save for last, she tried a bite of apple, followed by a bite of pumpkin, at which point she understood Murtagh’s logic. To her embarrassment, her appreciative moan was audible to everyone at the table. Even Jenny grinned at it.

“It appears that you’ve managed to make an acceptable substitute for my pie, Jenny.”

Claire ignored Jamie. “This is amazing. What do you put in it?”

“It’s essentially a custard with pumpkin purée and mixed spice.” Jenny was quite proud of her knowledge of British culinary terms, and was thrilled to get an excuse to refer to mixed spice.

“Did you use my jar of spice mix, Jenny? Because if you did, there’s cardamom in there too.” Jamie was far less concerned with keeping his recipe secret than with taking credit for the pie’s success.

Not to be left out, Ellen piped up with her contribution. “And we used rum in the whipped cream instead of vanilla. Pairs much better with the pies that way.”

“Whatever it is you did, it’s great.”

Jamie and Jenny, however, weren’t listening, and kept verbally poking at each other for the duration of dessert, with the occasional comment from Ian and Ellen thrown in.

By the time the table was cleared again Jamie, who was still blaming his sister for the entirety of the argument over whether or not he’d moved out, as well as for him having stayed in the city the last weekend and this one, realised that he was at a profound disadvantage from the assumption that Lallybroch was no longer “home”. Had it been agreed that he was living at Lallybroch, or even if he had been home for the weekend, he could have argued that someone else should drive Claire back, but as it was, clearly he was expected to drive back with her tonight. And, given that her nap in the car on the way here seemed to be wearing off, he really couldn’t join in the after-dinner drinks, as he would likely be making that trip soon. Irritated by this, he announced that he was going to his room to see what he could pack.

Jenny watched him leave with ill-concealed annoyance, and turned to Ellen, who was looking doubtful.

“It’s going to be so odd having an actual granny in the granny flat, eh mom?”

Ellen laughed. “Remember how upset Jamie got when we let him move out there in high school, but kept calling it the granny flat? He always said that since it was only him and Murtagh who had actually lived there that it should be the dude room.” She turned to Claire. “See, when Brian and I bought Lallybroch, pretty much every single building on the land was in disrepair. It ended up being cheaper to just tear them all down and replace them. Now, we were only able to afford the farm because the price was heavily discounted due to all these repairs. Having to rebuild everything was going to be a bit of a strain. But we got lucky, and ended up with a budget – or rather something of a blank cheque – for building the house. Just the house mind you, so if we didn’t spend the money on it, it was gone. So we made sure there was everything we wanted. And after we had designed something with as many rooms I was willing to clean, we decided in a fit of optimism to add on a granny flat. We intended it as such, and always called it that, even when it was a glorified guest room, or an apartment for family who needed a place to stay. So Jenny’s right, when I move in will be the first time that the granny flat is used as such. Oh, can I get you some more wine?”

Claire looked down at this apparent non-sequitur, and realised that she had indeed finished her wine without noticing. Hmmm. Not a good sign if she was tired enough to not notice that she was drinking. While she had nothing against enjoying a few drinks on occasion, she was aware that there was a strong correlation between how much she had had to drink, and how much more blunt she got. And given that her usual tendency towards bluntness was exacerbated by being tired, too tired to notice how much she was drinking was not a good situation with people she didn’t know well, and really wanted to stay on the good side of. (Aside from lingering worries about making a good impression on Ellen, Claire found herself very much enjoying the company of the family, and held some vague hopes of seeing them socially again.)

Much to her relief, Jamie re-entered the room. They caught each other’s eyes, and spoke simultaneously.

“Jamie, I’m sorry, but I think…”

“I can take you back anytime you need, Claire. Let me know”

Murtagh let out a chuckle as Jamie and Claire paused to figure out what the other had said.

“Thank you so much Jamie. I don’t mean to take you away from your family, but the trip and time change are catching up with me.”

“No worries. I’ll probably come back later tonight or tomorrow anyhow.”

“That will make Katherine happy,” interjected Jenny. “She always likes to see you.” Jamie grinned at this, being as enamoured with his tiny niece as anyone else in the family , and taking the olive branch from his sister for what it was.

A few minutes later, Jamie was backing out of the driveway. His leftovers were still in the kitchen, except for those parts of them that had ended up in the bundle of food his mother had handed to Claire as they were heading out the door.

Despite her fatigue, she stayed awake for the trip this time, chatting easily with Jamie, and watching the scenery out the windows. She found him more than able to share what he knew of local history, answering all the questions she had, and offering up the occasional tidbit of his own.

For his part, Jamie didn’t want the drive back to end. He found himself genuinely enjoying the time he was spending with Claire, and to his surprise was even happy that he had to do the return trip, as it meant he got more time with her all to himself. He enjoyed getting to share his knowledge with her, and as the trip back to the city wound to a close, he found himself more and more thinking of his father’s words, that when he found the right woman for him, there would be no questions, he would just know.


	3. I'm Going Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie takes steps to see Claire again

In the two months since Jamie had met Claire at his sister’s Thanksgiving dinner, he had only become more certain that it would be wonderful if Claire joined the family for dinner again – this time for Christmas. He suggested to Jenny that they once again invite Claire to join them, so she wouldn’t be alone on the holiday. The look his sister gave him left little doubt in his mind that she saw right through his motives, but beyond telling him that, in that case, he could extend the invitation, she didn’t comment. Claire enthusiastically accepted the invitation.

Jamie, however, was torn. He didn’t want to be _that_ guy, the one who hung around with a woman he was attracted to, pretending to be her friend, in the hopes that she’d fall in love with him. He felt that he ought to say something to Claire, to let her know that he wished that their relationship could be more than just friendship. (An understatement like that, saying that he “wished” there was something more there, rather than that he burned for it, wasn’t a deception, right?) On the other hand, he genuinely enjoyed her friendship, and would rather not ruin it (or distress her) by burdening her with confessions of undying love. What _was_ the etiquette for friendship between a seriously hot, well-educated world traveller and a schoolteacher who knew she was out of his league but was enamoured with her anyhow?

Aside from Jamie’s dilemma, Christmas dinner went quite well. Claire arrived shortly after the family had made it back to the farm after mass, and everyone sat down for the meal around two in the afternoon. Although Ellen, as a rule, was very good about respecting the fact that the farmhouse and its kitchen were no longer hers, she still knew her way around what was now Jenny’s kitchen, and had helped Jenny put together an impressive spread. When Claire put her fruitcake ( _“Oh, how generous! You didn’t need to bring anything.”)_ with the rest of the desserts, it was dwarfed by the two different, homemade, ones that Murtagh had brought. In the digestion break between main course and dessert, when Katherine had been laid down for her nap, the 6 adults gathered in the living room, savouring generous glasses of Glen Breton Rare. Still wearing the hats from their crackers, they chatted comfortably for a while. Eventually Jenny, feeling somewhat left out as both her mother was much more aware of Claire’s life than she was, asked how Claire was settling in.

“Things are going well. I think know my way around now. And as far as anyone can tell, the licensing confusion has finally been sorted out. They’ve sent an official-looking letter that says I can practice in Nova Scotia. Of course, they sent me a letter just like that when I arrived, before they announced that no, I couldn’t, so who knows! But that reminds me. Ellen, I want to check if the problems with my license would affect my immigration status. I don’t want to discover that because I was here and not actually licensed as a doctor that my work visa didn’t cover me, and therefore I was in the country illegally, and because of that they won’t renew it.”

Ellen nodded. “We’ll check with the lawyer for you. Worst case, I’m sure, you’ll need to provide documentation that you had cause to believe that you were licensed here. It’s good that we’re looking into it now, so if you need to have some of the documents you can put the ones you need aside for your renewal.”

“Nah, mom. Worst case, Claire can marry me. Then they’d have to let her stay.” Every eye in the room turned to Jamie, and he blushed a bright red, although his face was otherwise impassive. _I might have had a bit too much to drink, if I let that slip out._ But Claire calmly replied.

“I’m not sure my husband would approve of that, but thank you.” The other faces in the room were a study in shock. Jenny, Ian and Murtagh all wore a variation of “Oh, Jamie, how could you.” Jamie’s face had gone from red with embarrassment to white with shock and horror. Ellen was just plain confused, since she was fairly sure that, in her role as head of the recruitment board, she would have known if Claire was married, as the board would have helped with the spouse’s immigration too. She and Jamie replied at the same time.

“Wait, husband? Is he coming later? We’ll help you apply for his visa too, you know.”

“Claire, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I want to apologise if I crossed a line with my joke.”

At this point, Claire started her own evaluation of just how much she’d had to drink. Perhaps she had misjudged the appropriateness of her own joke. “I’m sorry, I was making a joke. I’m not offended by your comment Jamie, and I hope I didn’t cross any lines myself.”

With a twinkle in her eye, Jenny jumped into the silence that followed Claire’s remark. “Jamie, I feel like you not knowing if Claire was married or not means you’re unlikely to know her well enough to fool Immigration into thinking that you two actually have a relationship, when theyinvestigate your marriage.”

Ellen picked up the conversational save and ran with it. “Quite right Jenny. Even if you’ve been together for a while, it’s apparently a pain in the arse to prove to them that you got married because you wanted to, and not just for immigration purposes. So, Claire, if you want to do that, you should probably pick me. I’ve known you for longer, so it would be more convincing.”

“I don’t know Ellen. I might be better off with Jamie. I hear you’re constantly seen drunk in the middle of the afternoon. I don’t know that I’d want to marry a lush. Bad for my image as a respectable doctor, you know.”

Jamie tried to cover up the seriousness of his offer by continuing the “joke”. “Well, that’s an advantage I have, I’m not drunk. See?” At this he stood up, offering his father’s saying that if you can stand up you’re not drunk. Ian threw a pillow a Jamie, hoping to challenge his ability to stay upright, but Jamie stayed upright.  Seeing his mother getting ready to do the same, Jamie walked over to her chair, and pressed down on her shoulders.

“Gee mom, you aren’t even able to get out of your chair. Claire’s right, you’re drunk in the afternoon. I’m cutting you off.” He plucked his mother’s glass from where she had set it down on the table, and made as if to throw the rest of the contents down his throat, stopping when Murtagh cleared his throat pointedly at such a waste of good whisky. By this point both his mother and Claire were in stitches, and Jenny and Ian were snickering too.

When everyone had calmed down again, Claire smiled. “Ellen, I know that the committee’s offer of spousal support was for support in relocating, not assistance in finding one, so I really appreciate you going above and beyond. If I need someone to commit immigration fraud with, I’ll keep your, and your son’s, generous offers in mind. At least then I’d continue to have an excuse for coming to your holiday parties. Thank you ever so much for letting me join in this fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was all set to do an awesome parallel with the 6 days married/6 weeks friends quote, and then I remembered that November exists, and it's more than 6 weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. But I couldn't resist the proposal anyhow.


	4. Sincerely Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire go skating

Jamie was never quite sure just how well his mother knew what he was thinking. Logic said that she couldn’t know everything about what was in his head at any given moment. But logic couldn’t explain the consistently inconvenient timing she’d had when he was a teenager, and knew just the wrong time to knock on his door to tell him it was time to get up, or bang on the bathroom door to tell him to finish his shower. And now there was this request to take Claire skating.

Maybe she was telling the truth that she picked him because he was relatively close to Claire’s age, and, unlike Jenny, didn’t have kids keeping him busy. Or maybe she knew how he felt about Claire, and was trying to help him out by pushing them together. Whatever the cause, he was once again picking Claire up, this time with a pair of skates in Claire’s size that his mother has found somewhere, and her old hockey helmet that she had sent along. “She’s a doctor, she’d be worried about concussions, wouldn’t she?”

Claire was waiting outside when he pulled up to her building, well bundled against the weather, with a long winter jacket, hat, gloves and scarf. It wasn’t particularly cold, but the salt air meant that the damp chill persisted even as the temperature dropped below zero. As she got into the passenger seat of Jamie’s car (getting the right door on the first try this time), she pulled the scarf down to her neck. “Jamie! So good to see you again.”

Jamie grinned at her, and turned around, pulling back into the road. “My mom says that she promised you an introduction to the fun side of winter. Hopefully she warned you that she was delegating it.”

“She had offered to drive out herself originally! All the way from Lallybroch in this snow! She’s already going so far above and beyond what I was promised, I couldn’t possibly make her do that. She offered to ask if you’d do it instead.”

Jamie looked at her quizzically. “I don’t object to the trip – I probably wouldn’t have dug my skates out this winter otherwise, and teaching you will let me disguise how shaky I am. But I don’t see why you felt the need to turn mom down. The farm’s only about forty-five minutes away, and the snow isn’t expected to get any worse.”

Claire shook her head. “Culture shock, I guess. The idea of travelling that long just to go skating seems extreme to me. And I’m still skeptical about all your claims that this is a normal amount of snow. I was almost expecting you to cancel, even without having to drive through the countryside, from the snow we’re having.”

Jamie laughed at that. “And after how many years will you start to acknowledge what the snow here is like? Or are you going to stay in denial about that until you escape back to England?”

“I’m here for good, if I can survive your winters. Although I’m not quite sure I understand the concept of living in one country for such a long period of time. Figures I’d pick one that gets obscene amounts of snow to try it out in.” Claire shook her head, and asked after Jamie’s work.

Once they had arrived at the park and gotten out of the car, Jamie directed her towards a bench beside the open-air rink, with rubber mats on the ground between it and the ice. He got his skates on while she was getting her feet into hers, and offered to tighten the laces for her.

“Milord Strawberry! Hi! What are you doing here?”

Jamie looked up at the boy who had appeared out of the rotating mass of skaters and was now standing at the edge of the ice, grinning at them.

“Fergus! Good to see you. You and Glenda decided to come skating I see.”

“Yep we did! And who’s this? Est-elle ta blonde*?”

Jamie’s face went red. “Clau- Fergus!” he bit out angrily. He glanced at Claire. Just how good was her French? Hopefully she didn’t understand the slang. She just smiled at Fergus and leaned closer to the boy, as if she was about to tell him a secret.

“No, I’m not his girlfriend. I’m Dr. Beauchamp. You can call me Claire if you’d like. I haven’t decided yet if I should ask him to be my boyfriend. What do you think?”

The boy’s face turned thoughtful. “I think you should, but only if he’s a good kisser. He isn’t as pretty as you, but he’s taller. And I’d let you call me Fergus, like he does.” Jamie was sputtering by now, but he was saved from having to reply by a middle-aged woman who had drifted up to listen to the conversation.

“Claudel! Leave Mr. Fraser and his friend alone! And keep moving before I freeze.”

After the duo had skated on, Claire looked at Jamie with a twinkle in her eye. “Are you ready for a test then, Mr. Fraser?” Jamie gave a stunned nod, and let her skate fall to the ground so he could lean towards her.

Claire had intended for the kiss to be only a brief and ceremonial touching of lips, a test that she could declare he’d passed, letting his consent to the kiss give her the signal she needed that he was interested too, and wouldn’t mind if she asked him out. But his mouth was soft and warm and she moved instinctively toward him, only vaguely conscious of the public place until her balance shifted, and she would have fallen on top of Jamie if he hadn’t put his arms up in time to steady her. They drew apart, and smiled nervously at each other. Jamie’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Did I pass?”

Claire grinned back at him. “Hmmm… ok. It was good enough. Is this a date then?”

Jamie grimaced. “Only if you don’t give me a hard time about my mom setting it up!”

Claire laughed as Jamie finished tightening her laces. He held her hand and helped her walk over to the ice, and continued to hold her up as she wobbled on the rink. He took her to the centre, in the clear ice inside where more skilled skaters were circling the rink, and showed her how to push with her skates. He let her practice that until he noticed her eyeing the preschooler using a frame made from PVC pipes for support.

“Do they make those for adults?”

“No such luck. Every attempt to bring such a product to market has been sabotaged by young men who don’t want to risk losing the excuse to hold on to their date ‘for support’.”

Claire burst out laughing. “Wait, what? You had me going for a minute there. But if that’s how it works…” She held her hands out and Jamie took them in both of his, skating backwards in front of her as she slowly skated forwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fergus is asking, in a very slangy manner, if Claire is Jamie's girlfriend


	5. Fast as I can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn Fergus' backstory, and there is finally a proper kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This belongs earlier in the story, but I forgot to mention it then. Murtaugh hanging around with the family isn't as creepy as one would think, as I have completely done away with the "pining over Ellen for 30 years" aspect to the character.

By the time she was confident enough to feel up for joining the main group of people circling the rink, they had to clear off the ice while it was resurfaced. Jamie and Claire sat side by side on one of the benches, his arm around her shoulders as she snuggled into his side. (“It’s bloody cold out here! Can I steal some body heat?”)

“Who was that boy, anyhow, Jamie?”

Jamie sighed and twisted his neck around to look at Claire as he answered her question.

“He’s either a kid who fell through the cracks and everyone is leaving him there, or an example of the community coming together to help someone who the system is failing. I’m not sure which, and I don’t know if anyone else is either. Glenda, his foster mother, isn’t quite up for dealing with him, so a bunch of us pitch in a bit. He’s a good kid, and doesn’t even seem as traumatized as a lot of kids in foster care are, he’s handled the lack of stability fairly well. But he’s one of those kids who are just too bright, and are almost impossible to keep up with. You know the kind?” Claire confessed that she did not, and Jamie bit his tongue before offering up an observation that their kids would quite possibly give her all the information about that kind of trouble that she needed. Just because the boundaries had shifted didn’t mean that they weren’t still there.

“He was in my class about two years ago, when I had just started teaching. And frankly, that was the first red flag that Glenda wasn’t entirely up for this kid. He’s a francophone, you see, and there’s no way he should have been put into my class. He barely spoke three words of English at the time.”

At this point Claire interrupted. “Wait. I thought you said you taught in French. Wouldn’t that be the right place for him?”

“Not so much. I’m teaching in the English board, he should have either gone into the French board, or into the English stream so he could go for English as a Second Language classes.” At Claire’s confused look, Jamie gave up. “Look, it’s complicated. I will go into all the politics of it later.

“So I talk to my principal, he talks to Glenda, and they come to some sort of agreement. The principal explains the issue, and could I keep Claudel in my class, because it would make things a lot easier for him and Glenda, it’s something I could do to help out.”

“Claudel? But didn’t you call him Fergus?”

“I’m getting there, hold your horses. Here I am, convinced I’m the best teacher ever, so of course I say I can manage with him in the class without shorting the other kids. And frankly, although I was over-confident, the other kids probably benefitted from him being there. He really kept me on track about immersing the kids in French, and not falling back on English when they didn’t understand, because every time I switched to English he makes a big deal about not being able to understand it – he knew the class was all French, and even at five years old he could raise the most charming fuss. But we still get along fairly well, and afterwards he keeps coming by to say hello when he gets the chance, or if he sees me out in the community. Then Glenda happens to see me, and mentions that she’s having a hard time convincing him to practice his English, and is there anything I could do to help with that?

“The next time I see him, I suggest that he translate everything he can into English when he’s talking to me. Being the clever little trickster that he is, he decides that Monsieur should be translated literally, rather than properly. And if he’s translating Monsieur to My lord, he should translate my name too, right?”

Claire bit her lips until her ribs creaked, trying to keep from laughing. Jamie grimaced and shook his head.

“Now, I’ll admit I didn’t handle that well. When he didn’t care about me pointing out that names don’t translate like that, and he was actually being rude, I suggested that maybe I should translate his name into English too. Rather than backing down, he loved the idea. I wasn’t ready for him to call my bluff, so I had to come up with a name on the spur of the moment, hence the ‘Fergus’. He loved it, and somehow both names stuck. I’m still not sure how he pulled that off.”

“So now you’re Milord Strawberry, and he’s Fergus? That is just the cutest thing.” Jamie glared at Claire but she just continued to grin at him. He sighed.

“Yep, that’s pretty much it. You ready to go back out? Looks like they’re almost done.”

“Of course!”

Despite Claire’s enthusiasm, they had both gotten chilled while sitting, and her skating ability wasn’t up for moving quickly enough to warm up, so it was less than ten minutes later that they found themselves back in Jamie’s car. Once they had driven for long enough to warm up the car, Claire turned the heat on full blast, taking off her gloves and holding her frozen hands in front of the vent. While she was focused on enjoying the warmth, Jamie stared very intently at the road ahead and cautiously asked,

“Uh, Claire, back at the rink, you said that was a date. I was wondering if you might be open to having another one some time.”

Claire shyly smiled back at him, as he risked a quick glance at her.

“I’d love to. How about dinner on Friday?”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, how about dinner on Friday instead?”

Claire looked puzzled for a minute, then annoyed. “Jamie, I don’t mind you asking me. I do mind if it’s a big deal to you that you ask, and not me.”

He gave her a reassuring grin. “Normally, I’m fine with it. I don’t think someone who wasn’t would have the sense to ask you out anyhow, you are very clearly not the meek and obedient type. But I need to do something to make up for the fact that my mother seems to have arranged our first date.”

Claire grinned back at him. “In that case, sure. Actually, let me just double check my schedule.  I’d hate to have to cancel on you because I didn’t know my hours.” She pulled out her smartphone and checked her calendar. “Yep, Friday looks good. Is 6pm too late for you? I’m assuming you want to eat on Canadian time?”

Jamie ignored her jibe as he turned the car into the parking lot of her apartment. “I’ll pick you up at 7:00.”

He pulled into a visitor parking spot, and got out of the car himself. When Claire opened her door, he offered her a hand up out of the car, and pulled her into a hug. She pressed her cheek against the top of his chest, and snuggled her head under his chin. After a moment, he loosened his arms.

“May I?”

Claire loosened her own grip on him, and stepped back, straightening up to look him in the eye. The intent look she saw there caused her to swallow her response of “May you what?”

“Oh,” she said instead, bending her face towards him and stretching up towards his waiting lips. When they broke apart, she asked, with somewhat more of her characteristic bluntness than usual, “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” But Jamie just grinned back at her.

“What, did you think I was a monk? I needed to practice for when I met you.” Claire rolled her eyes at his over-the-top declaration, as he had intended, and he gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“I won’t keep you out here freezing. See you Friday?”

“See you Friday, Jamie.”


End file.
